The Blessed Unrest
by AColorfulMind
Summary: After the death of her father, The Detective's Daughter, Etheldrea Holmes has set out on a mission to avenge him and take down what she can of Moriarty's web. But, after a near death experience, she starts to realize maybe she's not the teenage copy of Sherlock she thought she was. With her best friend Abigail and guardian John, she's going to discover who she really is. 5th fic
1. Hercules Part 1

**AN: Welcome back to another tale in the Etheldrea Holmes series! The Blessed Unrest is going to be a songfic based on the album of the same name by Sara Bareilles, and I cannot tell you how excited I have been to do this! I highly suggest you open up another tab and search the songs as each chapter is posted. I'm listening to each song on repeat as I write the chapters, and it's just amazing!**

**As usual, I don't own Sherlock or it's characters aside from my own. Etheldrea Holmes' face model is model Emily Rudd however that will be changing by the end of the story as Etheldrea grows older. Also on the cover you see a man by the name of Anton Yelchin, who plays Chevok from Startrek. If anyone can correctly guess who he will be playing, you win! Here's a hint, I mentioned his character in a chapter two stories ago. So, without further ado, The Blessed Unrest.**

**I miss the days my mind would just rest quiet**

**My imagination hadn't turned on me yet**

**I used to let my words wax poetic**

**But it melted a puddle at my feet now**

**It is a calcifying crime, it's tragic**

**I've turned to petrified past life baggage**

**I want to disappear and just start over**

**So here we are**

**And I'll breathe again...**

* * *

><p>If there was one thing Etheldrea Holmes knew, it was that one minute, even one second can change everything. The differences can change the future and an either give or take life. However, she did not care what that meant for her.<p>

Four months ago her father, the world's only consulting detective Sherlock Holmes, jumped off St Bart's hospital. According to the papers, he couldn't cope with the "truth" of him being a fraud. She knew that wasn't case, wouldn't believe it. He had been as real as she was, and she owed it to him to clear his name.

The first month had been the hardest, but she wasn't alone. John Watson was her guardian now. He took her in when her dad died, saying that even if Sherlock hadn't made him promise, he would have done it anyway. There was no way in the entire world that he and she would be separated, they needed each other the most.

Before the school year started, John and Etheldrea moved out of 221 B Baker Street for a fresh start. It had been surprisingly easy convincing Etheldrea, but she was just like him, plagued by memories. Mrs. Hudson had been sad to see them go, but she understood and Etheldrea promised to visit now and then.

Abigail Grey, Etheldrea's best friend, was there to help too. Every week during the summer, the girls got together and talked, and sometimes they went back to Baker Street for tea with Mrs. Hudson. The landlady of 221 Baker Street was always eager to see Etheldrea. Although, the visits were shortened to only the weekends when school started up again.

Eventually, things got better for her. The sadness didn't fade, but it didn't consume her anymore, and the same was going for John. They both felt better after the move, and were starting to get on with their lives although it was much less exciting. John got a job at a hospital, and he finished in the afternoon so he was always there to pick Etheldrea up from school.

School wasn't too bad. Everyone was nearly an adult now, and so while there may have been whispers and stares, no one came up to Etheldrea or bullied her the way they would have years ago. She didn't have friends there, and Abigail didn't go to her school anymore. But she was left alone, and she much preferred it that way.

Life was better for them, and was seemingly going at a domestic pace. It bore Etheldrea to no end, and she needed something to occupy herself or she felt she would explode. When she wasn't with her friend, school, or Mrs. Hudson, she was digging around in places she shouldn't. Over the past three months she had been attempting to follow leads to a criminal organization that stretched all around the world. The network had been led by Moriarty, one of the most evil men she had ever met. He had been the one behind the faulty news headlines, framing her father for kidnaping two children, and when her dad died, he just disappeared.

She would spend hours investigating houses, people, and pouring over every bit of information she could get. John was close to finding out a few times but she was sneaky, and continued her information hunt. She hadn't been getting far but by November, she found one of Moriarty's employees. It was a small victory, and she had hoped to already know about three more employees, but she put it down to limited resources and time. If John or, gods forbid he never know, Uncle Mycroft, she would never do her work.

Alistair Walker was a freelance hit man who worked for Moriarty. After some convincing and a lot of money, she had bribed a few people who were once part of the Homeless Network. After her dad died, the Network disbanded but a little bit of hunting and she found a few of them. They tracked down the information she needed, which kept Mycroft from wondering where she was or what she was doing, and then she found her man.

She kept watch on him, tracking nearly every move he made. After a few weeks, she was able to predict his next move and it conveniently landed on her birthday. She made the plans, told John she was going for a trip, and then started putting together a file.

It would be a path of self-destruction.

_I Believe in Sherlock Holmes. I Fight John Watson's War. I Stand with The Detective's Daughter. Moriarty was Real._

These messages and similar ones decorated alleyways, posts, windows, and many other places much like Missing Persons signs. By St Bart's hospital, a red telephone booth was covered with messages of support and hope. Every week Etheldrea collected and put them a keepsake box. If anyone ever noticed the young woman with silvery blue eyes and shoulder length dark hair, they never said a word. She kept them under her bed and would look at them when she needed reassurance. It was nice to know that there were more than just a handful of people who knew the truth. And that's why she had to do this.

So in the early morning of her eighteenth birthday, a day where her Uncle Mycroft agreed to suspend all his security measures on her, she packed a backpack and kept the file hidden in her messenger bag. She donned a knee length black trench coat and a purple scarf, looking like an echo of the father she would avenge. After saying goodbye to John, she took a cab to Scotland Yard.

Inside she met an officer who stopped her as she tried to go to Lestrade's office.

"Not without an appointment Miss Holmes." He told her.

"Then may I request a job application?"

"Give me a minute. Stay here."

She waited until he disappeared around a corner, rolled her eyes, and then continued to Lestrade's office. This was her first time back since she learned what had happened. Everyone had stared at her as she walked out, and the same was happening again only this time they were trying to hide it.

The door to Lestrade's office was open and she walked in. He glanced up and a smile formed on his face when he saw her. She took a seat and pulled out the file and held it in her hands.

"Etheldrea!" Lestrade exclaimed, "I haven't seen you in a long time. How are you? John?"

"Fine. We're both fine. I'm afraid I didn't come for a social visit though."

"Oh? What's up? Wait a minute, your eighteen today! You've come for a job, haven't you?"

"Actually, that was the last thought in my mind." She handed him the file, "This is Alistair Walker. He's a hit man, and he was once employed by Moriarty. I want your help in going after him."

"Ethel, I told you-"

"I know but I didn't listen. Stubborn, remember? Please Lestrade, this is the only way-"

"No. No, I'm sorry, but this isn't right. You can't be hung up on this. You need to move on."

"I can't! He was fighting this, fighting Moriarty, and now _he's_ gone who knows where, but his network can slowing be uncovered. I can unravel it, I know I can. You need to trust me!"

"You're too young, a little girl like you shouldn't looking at this kind of stuff. "

"Then I'm too young to join the Yard, I shouldn't work here. That was ten years ago, Inspector. I'm not eight anymore, I'm not a kid. You and I both know I've never really been a kid."

"No, we don't. You've always seen yourself as grown up, haven't you?"

She stared silently, and he sighed.

"I do remember you being a little girl. I remember when you were nine, almost ten, when you were almost-"

Etheldrea hung her head and said quietly, "We never mention that."

"I know. But you were so scared and confused during that who ordeal. And when I looked over you, the only thing that kept you distracted was coloring. And you would draw all kinds of pictures of things that probably didn't help but they were still kids drawing."

Etheldrea recalled, "I gave them to you to give to him."

"And I did. It was the first time I'd seen him smile in about a week. And I told you that, and you would relax and make airplanes and try origami."

"I failed miserably."

"Yeah," he laughed, "yeah you did. Do you see what I mean? You're only eighteen, you've got the world ahead of you, and it doesn't start with searching for bad guys. It starts with you moving on and living. We owe it to him, don't you think?"

She sighed and nodded, "You're right. God, I was so stupid. Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Of course."

She stood up and held out her hand, "Thank for the time Lestrade, I'm sorry if I interrupted anything."

"It's fine, anytime Drea. I miss seeing you."

She smiled, "I do too. Have a nice day."

She turned to leave but Lestrade told her to stop.

"Hand me the folder."

She looked at him confused, "I thought you-"

"I'm not, and neither are you. So you don't need it."

She hesitated just a bit, but gave it to him. He put it off to the side and then stood up. He walked over, gave her a hug, and then stepped back and looked at her. He smiled to himself and then shook his head.

"Stop growing."

She smirked, "I can't promise anything."

"You never could."

"Bye Lestrade. I have a train to catch, but I'll talk to you later."

"Until then. Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

She turned and walked out of the office, again ignoring as people glanced up at her. She was almost by the doors when she passed by Sally Donovan and Anderson. The later looked at her wide eyed and then looked away and took a long sip of his coffee. Donovan on the other hand watched her with a cautious look in her eye.

Etheldrea stopped and turned back to her. She stood a little straighter and never broke eye contact.

"You were right Sally." She told her.

"About what?"

"My dad."

"Oh?"

"You said 'One day we'll be standing around a body, and Sherlock Holmes will be the one to put it there.' Guess where I was after he died?"

Sally looked uncomfortable and then walked away, taking Anderson with her. Etheldrea nodded content with what her words had done, and then walked out. Now, she a hit man to track down.

* * *

><p>Lestrade glanced down at the file, then shook his head, and looked back up at his computer. He went back to typing, but he continued to glance at the file. For the next couple of minutes he resisted the urge but he had to give in. He opened up the folder and pulled out the first sheet.<p>

It showed a picture and general record of the guy. The next page was his criminal record, and the next few pages were notes Etheldrea had took in him. He browsed through, quite proud of the effort she had put it, and then started to put it away. However, he stopped and reread the last paragraph.

**Has been freelance for three months. No contracts what so ever. Hiding average of twenty miles each day. Last known location Glasgow. Heading for Edinburgh. Should arrive by eleventh. First Class Ticket preordered. John/Mycroft clueless. Contact Lestrade for possible help?**

_Edinburgh? Ticket? What tic- _'I have a train to catch'_._

"Son of a bitch." He muttered.

He stood up, grabbed the file and a few other things he would need, and then hurried out the door. He passed by Donovan on his way out and she asked where he was going. He lied about a bug and continued out, hurrying outside. It had only been a few minutes; she couldn't have gotten that far.

He looked around, searching every head for dark hair or a purple scarf, but it seemed like she was- there! Just about to get into a cab! He ran towards her, calling out her name but she either ignored or didn't hear him. Quickly he went to grab a cab that a middle aged man was about to get it.

"Police, sorry, emergency." He said quickly, and then pointed out Etheldrea's cab to the driver, "Follow them."

The driver complied, but eventually lost them. Lestrade knew where she was heading though, and hopefully would make it in time. At the train station, he paid the driver and hurried inside, looking for Etheldrea. With hundreds of people around, it was impossible to tell where she was or if she had gotten on the train or not.

He had tried calling her on the way but she didn't answer. He didn't want to contact John, not yet anyway. He wasn't entirely sure if she was going after this man, but if she was he sure as hell wasn't letting her go alone. So, he ended up paying for a first class ticket to Edinburgh.

Honestly, he didn't expect it to be so easy. As soon as he stepped into the car, he saw her. She was faced away from him but he could see the top of her head, and the telltale messenger bag she carried everywhere. Quickly, he took a non-reserved seat four away and on the opposite side from her. He kept his head low, and would steal quick glances at her, making sure she wouldn't disappear.

Once the train started moving, and he was sure she wasn't going anywhere, he relaxed a bit. He took the file he had taken from her and went to study it more thoroughly. Maybe there was something in there to help him keep track of her. A hotel room, café, anything. There was nothing, and maybe that was a sign that she wasn't going after him.

For the next ten minutes, he read the file and checked on Etheldrea. It wasn't until the eighth check he found she had disappeared. She and her things were gone, and it was like she hadn't even been there! He swore to himself and looked everywhere behind him.

There was a clink on the table, and he faced forward to see Etheldrea smirking down at him. She took a seat across from him and put down her things. She had bought him a beer and herself a coffee.

"Nice to see you Inspector, I had a feeling you'd . . . change your mind."

He closed his eyes and groaned, "You tricked me."

She was still smirking, "Not really. I just laid the track pieces. You didn't have to board."

"So you really are going after him? After all that I told, all that's happened?"

She frowned, "I have to. I'm his daughter, it's my duty-"

"To get yourself killed? Because that's what will happen, and Etheldrea we can't lose you. Imagine what they would do to your family, your friends, to John. Do you really want us going to another funeral?"

"I'm smart enough to not get killed."

"And dumb enough to not have a plan." He held up the file, "There's no plan in here. What were you planning to do? Tie him up and bring him to the police? This man is six feet, five inches and two hundred pounds. Now I know you're a strong girl but-"

"Are you going to help me, or not?"

Lestrade sighed and rubbed his face, "I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"You did, and you chose to help me."

"I'm calling John, though. He deserves o know."

She nodded, "I agree."

He fumbled in his pockets for his phone, but couldn't find it. He tried searching around his seat, but it wasn't there. He glanced at Etheldrea and noticed the poker face she had. Silent, watching his every move. He glared at her.

"You said it yourself, not give it."

"I agree, I do, but not yet. Not until we arrive."

"Why?"

"Well he's definitely not going to let me go on this adventure. He'll grab the next train that he can, and if you tell him now, we'll only have about half to a full hour to search. I need longer than that."

He sighed again, "Fine. We'll do this your way. You're just like your dad."

"Genetics." She said with a smile, "Now, you're right. We need a plan."

She reached into her messenger bag and pulled out a map and some pens. She also pulled out some more papers which he saw were actively logs of Walker. She started talking about possible locations, and ways they could corner him off. For the next four hours, they planned and plotted, and Lestrade was sure he'd be able to keep her out trouble until John got there.

* * *

><p>As soon as they stepped off the train, he asked for his phone, but Etheldrea wasn't paying attention to him. She was on her own phone, reading off a text.<p>

"He's been spotted, not far from here." She said, "Let's move."

She took off, not quite running, but hurrying all the same. Lestrade chased after her until they were stopped outside and alleyway a few blocks from the station.

"Well, do you see him?" he asked.

She shook her head and walked further into the alley, "No. He may have left."

He walked next to her and looked around. It was pretty empty, and with no dead end, he would have easily gotten away before they got there. He sighed and looked to her.

"Alright, well, we just need to keep looking. But first, give me my phone."

Etheldrea nodded and handed him the phone. He turned away from her and started searching through the contacts for John. Just as he found, he heard Etheldrea speak.

"I'm really sorry about this Inspector. Truly."

He started to turn to her, confused, but then something heavy and hard thumped him in the back of the head. He was out before he hit the ground.


	2. Hercules Part 2

**I've lost a grip on where I started from**

**I wish I'd thought ahead and left a few crumbs**

**I'm on the hunt for who I've not yet become**

**But I'd settle for little equilibrium**

**There is a war inside my heart gone silent**

**Both sides dissatisfied and somewhat violent**

**The issue I have now begun to see**

**I am the only lonely casualty**

**This is not the end though**

* * *

><p>It was eleven, she had about four hours minimum to do this.<p>

She hated doing this, absolutely utterly hated doing this. But, if she was to get anywhere, she needed Lestrade out of it. She should have known it would be too good to be true. He was the law, and she was willing to break it, and she couldn't have him getting involved. She hadn't been surprised when she saw him on the train, trying so hard not to be seen by her, and she hadn't been surprised when he wanted to call John.

But, she had watched him carefully during the four hour journey, and somehow she just knew he wasn't going to let this go. He wasn't going to help her, and he was going to make sure she stayed away from trouble. She couldn't let that happen. And part of her knew it was going to happen, so she was prepared.

John had two canes, which fortunately he never used anymore, and so sneaking out the collapsible one from the closet had been pretty easy. Then, she had to lead him away from a crowded area, and to her good fortune, one of her contacts texted at the right moment. So she led him away from the crowded station and down the streets until she found an empty alley. She was even luckier when he turned his back to call John, and she took out the cane.

"I'm really sorry about this Inspector." She told him, "Truly."

Then just as he turned back to her, she swung and hit hard. He was down on the ground, not moving, and she made sure he was breathing before taking off. Then she started her search. Her contact had had sent her Walker's last known location, and when she arrived, he was still there. On a bench on one side of the road, he was smoking a cigarette and looking at his phone. Etheldrea feigned looking at her phone while she rested against the wall.

Her phone _had_ gone off a few times, both from Lestrade and then John and she was sure there was an angry voice mail from them both. But, it didn't seem like they had contacted Mycroft, so she didn't answer. Lestrade had been wrong, she did have a plan, one that she had hoped he'd be part of. She'd corner Walker, take him down, and then contact police. She, Sherlock, and John had done it all the time. Simple.

For the next three hours she followed after Walker, staying sometimes a block behind him, but she blended in well and hadn't been caught yet. By two she followed him to Portobello Beach and he sat outside a little café. Quickly she sat down at a table and picked up a menu. She watched him over the top of it, and waited for him to leave. A waitress came by and Etheldrea ordered a coffee, and a small sandwich that she barely touched.

She sat there for an hour, waiting and waiting. She needed him in a quiet area where no one could get in the way. Eventually, he paid for his meal, and then started walking away. Etheldrea quickly followed suit, staying twenty paces away and keeping her hands in her pockets and head down.

She followed him for three blocks, and then she began to notice there were less people around. Another four blocks later, there was even less. Then finally there was no one as he started walking towards the beach. It was cold, and the air had a strong sense of rain, so no one would be at the beach of course. But, Etheldrea had a nagging feeling. Almost like he was leading.

He made a right on to a pier, and Etheldrea kept walking. A minute later, she turned her head back one and saw that Walker was now doing the same as her. Following behind at twenty paces, hands in his pockets and head down. She crossed over to the other side of the street, and then so did he.

He _had been_ leading her, and she had been stupid enough to fall for it. Every intersection she passed was devoid of people, and she tried turning down streets to find a busier road, but it seemed her luck was gone. It wasn't until she could hear Walkers footsteps that she started running.

She made a right, and then another at the next street, and then left at the next. Walker ran after, almost matching her pace. She kept running towards the main roads, hoping to find someone to help her. Before she was halfway down the path, a yank on her messenger bag threw her back and towards the ground. She was stopped by a rough hand shoving her up against a house wall by her neck.

Hot and nasty, Walker breathed, "What do you think you're doing, following me?"

Etheldrea glared, "That's my business."

The pressure on her throat increased, ""Yeah, and I seem to be part of it. So I'll ask again-"

He pulled out a pocket knife and held it against her cheek, "What. Are. You. Doing?"

Etheldrea felt the blade biting into her skin. Then there was a small, hot, line going down. She was bleeding no doubt, and would be bleeding more if she didn't get out of there fast. If she timed this right, a kick to the knee cap to stun him, another kick high to distract, and a punch to the chin at the same time. She'd get another cut on the cheek, but it was a small price to pay. She did just that, and felt the blade swipe across instead of down but she paid it no mind. She took off again and raced as far away as she could.

It didn't matter. Walker was after her, and this time he reached her jacket. Before he asked his question again, he dug the blade down her back, splitting the jacket and shirt, and leaving a nasty cut. It wasn't enough to incapacitate her though, but it hurt like hell.

"You worked for Moriarty!" she yelled.

"I knew I recognized you. The fake detective's daughter. What? Daddy is gone now so you have to chase the bad guys?"

He cut across her left shoulder, "You should've stuck to your dolls, Little Girl."

She rounded on him and punched, "I never played with dolls."

Her clothes felt wet and sticky, and running was becoming so tiresome. No wonder Walker was catching up to her so fast. She needed help NOW. A block away, she turned between some houses and pulled out her phone, still running. She typed in the number and it picked up before the first ring.

"_Etheldrea, where the hell are you?"_

"Don't yell at me yet, Inspector. I may have misjudged my situation completely. I'm near the intersection John Street and Elcho Terrance, heading North West. Being chased."

She looked back and saw Walker coming up, and she tried running faster.

"Hurry!"

Etheldrea hung up and focused on running ahead. There was a three way intersection coming up, and her best bet was running across and jumping a fence. Why the hell was there no one around? As she crossed the road, Walker was behind her and grabbed anything he could. One hand grabbed her scarf, and she stopped short as he pulled and choked her.

She struggled to get out of it, and couldn't breathe. Then, there was sharp pain in her arm as the knife he had cut through, reaching from her wrist to her elbow. Finally, her scarf loosened and came off. She ran, leaving it in his hands.

The fence was three feet taller than her, and she barely had the strength to climb it. When she was finally over, falling to the ground, Walker was there too. He was on her, pinning her hands and feet. He held the pocket knife above her and grinned down.

"Say hi to your dad for me."

She closed her eyes and turned her head, and then felt the knife enter her abdomen. At the same time, she felt Walker get off. The pain was intense, and she couldn't see straight. Black dots filled her vision. When she turned to look for Walker, she saw someone on top of him. Someone with dark hair, and a long coat.

She blinked her eyes, trying to focus but unable to. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, and before she could really register what she was seeing, she blinked and they were gone. Now, someone was patting her cheek, and saying her name.

"Etheldrea, please, _please_, wake up. Etheldrea!"

Looking up, she saw Lestrade. He looked concerned but relieved when he saw her eyes open. There was a pressure on her stomach and when she looked towards the appendage, she saw John pressing his hand there.

"The ambulance is on its way." Lestrade said, "Just hang on, keep your eyes open."

"She's awake?" John asked.

"Yeah. Drea, can you hear me?"

She mumbled, "You were-"

She coughed.

"I was right, I know, I know." He said, "I told you not to go-"

"-an idiot. Had him. Got away."

She didn't hear what he said next, already unconscious.

* * *

><p>When Lestrade opened his eyes, Etheldrea was gone. Slowly, he sat up and rubbed his head. Etheldrea was much stronger than she looked. Glancing down, he found his phone, and immediately called John.<p>

"John?"

"_Yeah Greg?"_

"Do you know what Etheldrea's doing?"

"_It's her birthday; she always does something like this on her birthday."_

"I know, but do you know what's she's doing, where she's going?"

"_Yeah, it's just a day trip. She'll be back by-"_

"It's not just that. She's chasing a criminal."

"_She's what?"_

"She's been planning this for months. She found a hit man, someone who worked for Moriarty. She's going after him."

"_Where is she now?"_

"I don't know. She hit me with something before taking off. I just woke up."

"_Alright, I'm coming. I'll call you when I get there."_

They hung up, and Lestrade tried Etheldrea next. It rung and rung, and finally gave her voice mail. He tried her three more times before knowing she wouldn't answer, and then he tried Mycroft. But, neither Holmes was answering. He kicked the wall in frustration, and then decided to start walking around. Now and then he'd stop people and ask if they had seen her, showing a picture he had on his phone. But he was getting nowhere.

He tried her phone every half hour, but she refused to pick up. The same with Mycroft. Once, he got a secretary saying Mycroft had some important business meeting going on and couldn't be disturbed, no matter who was in potential danger. His own orders apparently.

But finally, after searching for hours, and then meeting up with John at the station, she called.

"Etheldrea, where the hell are you?"

"_Don't yell at me yet, Inspector. I may have misjudged my situation completely. I'm near the intersection John Street and Elcho Terrance, heading North West. Being chased. . . . Hurry!"_

He grabbed John and they got in a cab. As they got to the intersection, he received a text from Etheldrea.

**704 Bellfield Street. Right side.**

With the new information, they headed for the house, and there paid the driver and went off in search of her. As soon as they rounded the corner of the house, they saw her. She was lying on the ground, not moving, and Lestrade could see her jacket torn to shreds. Her scarf was gone, and there was a couple on cuts on her cheek. Whoever did this was gone. John kneeled beside her and checked her over.

"Greg, call an ambulance. _Now._"

* * *

><p>All John and Lestrade could do was wait. An hour passed with no word. And then another. John hadn't stopped pacing since they were put here. Lestrade had tried Mycroft again, and this time he got an answer. He was on his way, and would be there within a couple hours. Then he sat down in a chair and waited some more.<p>

"She's been so distant." John said as he paced, "I thought she was just grieving. I didn't know that she- she-"

"No one did. Not even her Uncle, and he's pretty good at keeping track of what she's doing."

"How could he not have known? How could _I_ not have known? She bloody lives under the same roof!"

"It's not your fault, and it's not Mycroft's fault. Honestly, we should blame Etheldrea-"

"And we will, as soon as she's better."

"Yeah. . . . What are you gonna do?"

"She's eighteen, I can't ground her. I can't order her to do anything anymore. She might try to do this again."

"She will. Maybe she should get some therapy."

John stopped pacing for a moment and shook his head, "That's not going to help. You've known her for years, is there anything that would convince her to stop this?"

He sighed, "The Holmes' are notorious for self-destruction. You know Sherlock's past, I'm sure Mycroft went through something at some point. And Etheldrea . . . here we are now."

"There's got to be something, anything."

Lestrade leaned back in his chair, "Did you know Sherlock almost lost custody of Etheldrea?"

John stopped pacing and turned to look at him, "What?"

"Less than a year after we first met. He brought her to a crime scene, really bad, really gruesome. Someone called child services. It was almost three weeks before Mycroft managed to square up some deal or contract. But in that time, she was convinced that not helping with cases would make her see her dad."

"How can that help now?"

"This is going to sound really bad, but . . . Sherlock isn't coming back. Nothing she does will help him, not unless it's to clear his name. I know she feels this is the only way to connect with her dad, but . . ."

"She needs to come to her senses."

Lestrade nodded in agreement, and then looked left when he saw a doctor walking towards. The look on her face wasn't grim, and she had just a hint of a smile.

"Etheldrea Holmes?" she asked.

Lestrade stood up and walked to her, standing just a little bit behind John.

"Etheldrea is doing just fine. The surgery went well, and she should be recovered by the beginning of next month. Luckily, the knife only went about an inch in, and was treated quickly. Now, the cuts along her back, face, and arms will take a couple weeks but are a little more delicate. She can't do much physical exercise, especially lifting."

"Is she awake?" John asked.

"No, not yet. But, within the hour she will. If she cooperates, she should be able to leave in a couple days. Would you like to see her?"

"Please."

She led them down a couple of hallways and then stopped outside the door. She gave them a smile and then left. Lestrade took in the sleeping girl's appearance. In all honesty, she had seen worse, and just as the nurse said, she would probably be up and about as soon as she could.

Just as they were about to take seats, there was a knock at the door. Mycroft Holmes walked in and surveyed his niece. He looked worn and unbelievably tired. Seeing the two men watching him, he sighed.

"Shall we go see what this miserable place has for coffee? My treat."

"Sorry?" John asked.

"There's not much we can do until she wakes up, which won't be for a little while yet. I'm sure you two have had quite the day. Shall we go?"

Lestrade and John took a glance at Etheldrea before following Mycroft. As they walked, they didn't notice Mycroft sending a text.


	3. Hercules Part 3

**Just want to tell you guys, I have no medical knowledge. The best I get is from WebMD, and half the time that website tells me I'm dying of cancer or the flu. Carry on.**

**This is my darkest hour**

**A long road has lead me out here**

**But I only need turn around to face the light**

**And decide flight or fight**

**Cause I have sent for a warrior**

**From on my knees, make me a Hercules**

**I was meant to be**

**Cause I have sent for a warrior**

**From on my knees, make me a Hercules**

**I was meant to be a warrior please**

**Make me a Hercules**

* * *

><p>Outside, a man rested against the hospital wall. He kept his head down, staying as far from the street lights as he could. People passing by never glanced at him. Now and then he'd pull his phone out, checking it impatiently for a message. Finally, after what seemed like hours, it came through.<p>

**You have 30 minutes.**

Quickly, he straightened up and walked into the hospital. He kept to himself, and blended in well. He stopped outside the door of a room, hesitating for a moment, and then let himself inside. He closed the door behind him and locked it for good measure, and then went to sit by the bedside of Etheldrea.

He took in her appearance, noting the stitches traveling her right arm, and peeking out of the left shoulder of her hospital gown. He knew a longer one was on her back, and then the wound on her stomach. John had once described him as late, and here was the proof. His daughter was in the hospital after chasing down a criminal, _his_ criminal, and Sherlock Holmes blamed only himself.

He held her hand and whispered, "I am so sorry."

Her hand twitched and then her eyes started to open. Sherlock let go of her hand, sat back, and waited for her reaction. She blinked a few times, trying to comprehend her surroundings, and then she saw him.

"Dad?" she asked quietly, and then groaned, "Am I dead? No! I didn't even get him."

He said quickly, "You're not dead. Not yet."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because we need to talk."

"What for?"

"About your little stunt."

"You're not around, someone had to continue."

"You can't do this Etheldrea; you can't hunt down Moriarty's web."

"I found one man-"

"And he nearly killed you."

"They always do. I'll be smarter next time. Someone has to do this."

"Maybe someone already is."

She shook her head, "I don't understand."

"If you're going to stay in this world, don't follow me."

"Maybe I want to." She replied quietly, "Maybe I will."

Sherlock was about to reply but stopped when he realized what she meant, and it shook him to the core.

"Don't. You'll receive no satisfaction from it. Stay here, watch over Mrs. Hudson, and keep yourself and John in trouble."

"Why should I?"

"Because it's what I want."

"How do I know that? How do I know what _you _want? You're not really here. Dreaming. Anesthesia. I'm hallucinating right now. I have to be."

Sherlock didn't say anything, not wanting to confirm nor deny. He wanted to tell her it was real, that he was alive and lift that burden off her shoulders. But, how could he when his mission was barely even started and with no estimate end time? And after today, how could he let her come along, how could he have wanted her to come along? As much as he loathed it, Mycroft had been right. She had to stay in London, where she was safe and stop this foolish pursuit.

Etheldrea looked away from him and played at the hospital blanket's hem. She was nervous, and tired, and everything felt real but fake at the same time.

"You left me." She mumbled accusingly, "You keep doing that."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Come back. Make everything right. Bring back the good."

Sherlock looked confused, "The good?"

She nodded, "Ever since you left, I keep seeing people everywhere, evil ones. Abusers, crooks, criminals. Everyone is. I tried to fight them on my own, I tried hunting down them one by one, but it went wrong. All wrong, and here I am, and he's gotten away. He was supposed to be my ticket."

"To what?"

"Moriarty. Finding everything he's connected to and destroying it, and now I've lost it. I've lost it. I've gone mad." She closed her eyes and leaned her head back.

Sherlock reached inside his coat and pulled out a silvery object. Letting it drop from a chain, he reached over and placed it around her neck. It was the pendant he had given her this time last year. He had found it on the ground after going back to the scene. A few chains had broken, but he fixed it.

He said, "Remember what I told you about this? What it represents?"

"Strength. Focus."

"Power too. Everything that makes you. You may be mad, but you're my daughter and a Holmes. It's expected."

She smiled at that, but frowned, "What am I supposed to do?"

"Live. Go back to London. Finish school. Join the Yard. That was your plan, wasn't it?"

"It _was_. How can I though? After everything that happened, and now this, how would they let me in? I'm reckless, and stupid, and a temper to match grandmother. I'm not someone they want."

"They'd be insane not to accept you."

She played with the pendant in her hands and frowned, "I can't let you . . . die . . . in vain. The network, someone has to-"

"I told you, maybe someone already is. Let go of those thoughts."

"But then I'll let go of you."

"You should. It's for the best."

"But I don't want to. If I let go, what is there in the world? There's too much evil out there, and it has to be stopped. You're a hero and you always saved the day, but now you're gone. I've been trying, but it's hard, and I'm not- I'm useless."

"Did you ever read the letter?" he asked.

"Letter?"

"The one that came the day after I jumped."

She shook her head, "I- I couldn't. I can't."

"Why?"

"It's hurts too much."

"If you read it, you'll feel better. You'll understand."

She yawned and tried to hide it. Her eyes had been blinking too much, and her words were starting to mumble. Sherlock smirked and stood up.

"I should go."

"No!" she cried, reaching for him, "No, please."

He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze, "I'm sorry, but I have to. It's been nearly too long. Besides, you're going to sleep."

She yawned again, "No, I don't need sleep."

"_I_ don't need sleep. _You_ are a terror in the mornings."

"But you'll leave."

"You'll see me again."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He waited until she relaxed some and her eyes closed.

"I love you daddy." She mumbled.

He leaned over and kissed her forehead, "I love you too, my Little Wanderer."

Then she was fast asleep. He left quickly, and just missed John, Lestrade, and Mycroft as they came back. Later, as he was riding back to a safe house, he would rub his eyes and find himself crying. It was only time he wondered if he had made the right choice in letting her go.

* * *

><p>The next morning, when Etheldrea awoke, the first thing she noticed was the pendant in her hands. Then John reading a newspaper on her left. The moment she moved, he looked up and then straightened himself.<p>

"Morning." She said with a hint of sleep.

"Good morning. Lestrade and Mycroft are here. Lestrade's getting breakfast and Mycroft's . . ."

"Keeping peace in the world, I suppose."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I-"she sighed, "I'm fine."

"The doctor said you might be able to leave this afternoon, but only if you're good."

"Well, if I'm double that I suppose I could leave right now."

He chuckled, "Not so fast." Then he frowned, "We need to have a talk."

"I know. I know, and I'm sorry. Really, truly."

"Oh- ok. Why, well, what happened?"

She clutched the pendant tighter, "I had my eyes opened."

"Okay. Good. I still have to ground you."

"Okay. What's the punishment?"

"You have to do the dishes. And take out the trash."

"Easy enough."

"No reading for fun. For two weeks."

"What? Seriously?" she groaned.

"Complain anymore and it'll be three."

She sighed, faked a glare, and then smiled, "I can deal with that."

"You're lucky, you know. You could've had much worse. We must have gotten there the moment Walker ran off."

"How did you find me? My directions weren't really the best, and I was hidden a bit."

"You texted Lestrade the address, remember?"

"No, I didn't. I didn't even know where I was, I had turned onto a different street."

"Maybe the man you were chasing did?"

"Oh god no, he was trying to kill me. Wait, you said he ran off? Did you see him at all?"

"No, sorry. We never saw him."

"But, that doesn't-"

Etheldrea frowned and started thinking of everything that could've happened. She couldn't remember much, couldn't remember anything after Walker taking her down. There was something she felt she was missing, but remembering only hurt her head. She shook it off and deleted it.

"I'm done. I won't look for him. I swear on it."

"This was easier than we thought it was going to be."

"Thought I was going to be stubborn, huh? I'm going to work on that."

"So, what are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to ask Lestrade if he wants to continue clearing dad's name. And then I'm going to apply to the Yard. I'm eighteen now, I should start taking on some sort of 'responsibilities'."

John laughed, "Don't grow up too fast on me though."

Etheldrea rolled her eyes and then looked around. On her right she could see a bag with extra clothes. Her boots and messenger bag were there too.

"Am I allowed to get dressed yet, or move around?"

"I'd wait until the Doctor comes in. speaking of, I'll let her know you're up. We've been waiting all night and morning to see you up."

He left and came back a minute later with the Doctor. She was nice, and very quick about her questions. Etheldrea responded to each honestly and patiently, and in the end Etheldrea was a few hours from discharge. They wanted to keep her for a little bit still just to see how she got along, but other than that she was home free.

The stiches and scars still hurt, but nothing some Ibuprofen couldn't cure. She'd be on bed rest or low activity for a few weeks, but she would be perfectly fine by the middle of December. Just in time for Christmas the Doctor said before she left.

As soon as she had, she got up with John's help much to her protesting. Then she grabbed the clothes and went to change. It took longer than normal since the stiches on her back pulled quite a bit, but she slowly figured it out. After that she went back to sit on the bed and talk with John.

About ten minutes later, the door opened and Lestrade and Mycroft both walked in. Lestrade looked pleased to see her up and awake, and Mycroft looked like himself if with maybe just a tiny smile.

"Hey kid." Lestrade greeted, "Feeling alright?"

"A lot better. John and I had a nice talk."

"Really?" Lestrade looked to John for confirmation.

"Everything's resolved. We don't have to pull any drastic measures. She is grounded though."

"_Drastic_ measures?" Etheldrea asked, "Were you going to lock me in a tower?"

Lestrade said, "Well, your hair's getting long enough. I don't think I've ever seen you with hair longer than your chin."

She held a lock of hair that just reached the top of her shoulder. In the past four months she hadn't cared about grooming.

"It looks nice though. Anyway, I've got some bad news."

Etheldrea sat up straighter, though it pained her a bit, but didn't look alarmed. Bad news from Lestrade could be anything from a kitten stuck in a tree to London on fire. What's the worst thing that could happen now?

From under a chair, he pulled out a large brown paper bag, and from that pulled out some items in large plastic bags. She vaguely recognized one bag as a pair of pants along with a grey and bloody fabric. The other bag was a black fabric.

"Your pants are fine, but the shirt isn't worth the damage. What really worries me is your coat."

"Let me see."

He gave the coat bag to her and she pulled it out. Immediately she noticed the back was nearly in two pieces. Then she found the shoulder had a gash in it, and then the right arm. The gold threated EH on the label wad dotted with blood. If it was to be repaired, it wouldn't have the smooth, finished look it once did.

"Also, your scarf's gone too."

The purple scarf, lost when Walker had tried to choke her with it.

"We can always repair it." Lestrade said, "It would be fixed in a jiffy."

But would it be the same? The same coat she had opened up on her eleven birthday? The coat with too long sleeves needing to be rolled up that slowly transformed into too short? The same coat that had given her the same silhouette as Sherlock. She had looked like him, tried to be like him.

But, she couldn't do that. Not anymore.

She stood up and put the torn coat in a waste bin. Then went to sit back down. Lestrade and john looked equally shocked while Mycroft watched her questioningly. He looked as though he knew what she was thinking, but couldn't understand her reasons.

She told them, "It's time for a new start."

* * *

><p>Later that morning, just an hour before Etheldrea could leave, Mycroft wanted to talk to her. They'd come back with lunch, a real lunch, and none of that "damn lumpy hospital mush" as Lestrade had put it.<p>

Mycroft sat down across from her and started, "this is quite a bug change for you."

She nodded, "I suppose."

"I do wonder what brought this on."

She scratched her arm, and shrugged, "Don't know. Just came to my senses."

"Etheldrea Wisteria Holmes, I know when you're lying to me."

"Of course you do. Which is something I really admire about you, you know. You always know things."

"Etheldrea . . ."

She sighed, "I saw dad."

"Sorry?"

"Last night. It was a dream. Or a hallucination. Or both? I don't know, going in to deep makes my head hurt. All I know is, I was out of it and I saw dad."

"Did he say anything?"

"Yeah. A lot of things, actually. And, look, I know it sounds crazy, but it helped. I really am going to try and be better. I'm going to try and figure out . . . things. Me. Everything's confusing, and I feel like I'm lost, but I'll find the right way eventually."

"Please enlighten me what they right way is? For as long as I've known you, you've always had some alternative motive for the things you do. Why should this be any different?"

She squinted at him, "Are you saying you don't think I can change?"

"I won't believe it until I see it, eighteen years' worth of looking after you have shown me you're prone to the same behavior as you're father. But, I will support you in whatever way I can."

She smiled, "Thank you. So, and this probably isn't the right time to ask, but are you ever going to downgrade security on me?"

He smirked, "I was wondering when you'd ask that. Level three, same as John."

"Yes!"

"As I told you months ago, I would still want to check in on you."

She nodded, "Yeah. How about lunch every other Saturday?"

He smiled, "Sounds delightful."


	4. December

**Distill a whole year down into a day**

**Act like we all start over with a pristine slate**

**But to get yourself a new life you've got to give the other one away**

**And I'm starting to believe in the power of a name**

**Cause it can't be a mistake if I just call it change**

**December**

**Can't turn around now**

**December**

**Break the chain, can't live in circles again**

* * *

><p>She had to be better; she had to prove it to them. John, Mycroft, Lestrade, they were all counting on her. Etheldrea knew what to do, and how to do, and for the next month she uncharacteristically followed through.<p>

Etheldrea kept off her feet, stayed relaxed while she healed, and when she was well enough to be as active as she usually was she helped around the flat. There had still been a few boxes that they had never gotten around to unpacking. One weekend, she got to it and finished it all.

She did everything he asked, and beyond that. First, she took over washing the dishes while John dried. Then, cleaning up all the rooms, and then doing laundry, and then cleaning rooms that didn't even need to be cleaned for a few more days yet. She was helpful in everyday chores, even when she still had school going on.

She finished her homework in the blink of an eye, and though that wasn't unusual, she was getting everything absolutely right. John knew she tried to fit in with the others in her age group, and had often purposely got answers wrong so as to be above average but below an upper level. He had gone to a school conference just a few days ago. She was excelling in everything.

John was suspicious. Had been from the start. He knew he should've been happy, but well . . . it wasn't Etheldrea. She talked and acted like Etheldrea still, but the Etheldrea he lived with was like a robotic maid on the highest setting.

Finally, one day in the middle of December, after coming home from work to the smell of burning chicken – at least he thought it was chicken - he knew they had to talk.

She was by the stove, waving a cloth by the fire alarm, keeping the smoke at bay.

"Sorry." She said, "I'm really sorry, I thought-"

"Hey, it's ok."

He put the burnt food in the sink and ran cold water over it.

"I'm going to guess cooking is something you inherited from your father." He said with half a laugh.

Etheldrea didn't say anything, not looking at him, and collapsed onto a chair. Her hair covered her face, refusing to look at him. John frowned and went to sit next to her. He put a hand on her shoulder and tried to get her to talk.

"What's up? It's just chicken. I've burnt it plenty of times in the past."

She shook her head.

"Really, it's fine. We'll just get take out like we always do."

"I'm sorry." She said.

"It's _fine_. Please, tell me what's wrong. You've been out of sorts for a month, and it's not that I don't appreciate the cleaning and the grades and the crunchy chicken, but it's not you."

"I just . . . I just don't want to you to have to worry about things." She didn't look at him, playing with the hem of her shirt.

"It's alright. You don't have to do everything. We can share the weight."

"Well- I know we can, but- never mind, let's just go takeout."

She started to stand, but he stopped her, "Now hold on. 'But' what?"

"Nothing, really, it's nothing. It's stupid."

"Nothing coming from you could ever be stupid."

"You should have to worry about me."

"I'm always going to worry about you, why do you think I call you during your lunch period? Why do you think I pick you up from school? Why do you think I look after you? I'm always going to worry, that's what you do when you have someone you care about."

"You don't have to worry about me."

"But I'm going to."

"No, I mean you don't _have_ to. You're under no obligation to look after me."

For a moment, he didn't understand where she was going with the conversation, but then it clicked. As much as he had been worried about her, she in turn worried about him and about what he was thinking. He kneeled in front of her and brushed the hair back from her face.

"I will _never_ leave you. Got it?"

She nodded but he could see in her eyes she didn't believe him, not yet. Her walls were up again, though weaker this time, and he knew it would be awhile before she trusted him completely. But soon enough he would make sure she never felt alone again.

* * *

><p>The next day, Abigail came to visit and the girls spent their time in Kensington Gardens. After updating each other on recent life, Abigail had a boyfriend now (who was three months younger than her) and was spending a lot of her time studying for psychology exams.<p>

"Psychology? You're positive that's what you want to do?" Etheldrea asked.

"Definitely. Helping people is my life!"

She smiled, "Then good for you. Are you ready for the work that coming up? Eight years of school, I believe."

"Nothing I can't handle. What about you? Where are you applying?"

Etheldrea shrugged, "Well, I'm . . . not."

"No?"

"Nope."

Abigail asked, "So you're going to work? The Yard, right? Have you applied?"

"Not yet. I haven't exactly told John or my Uncle yet."

"Will they react badly? Oh my god, when Adam told mom and dad he was dropping out, they freaked out!"

"Well, I'm not dropping out of school. I'm going to finish out this semester and the next. I think John will be fine though, and Uncle Mycroft . . . well, I'm sure he won't be happy, but my life isn't about making him happy."

"Cool. That Inspector you like, are you going to work for him?"

"I won't for a while. I've got to undergo training for a couple years, and even then I might not be assigned to him. Depending on what my supervisor will think."

"Two years of training? Seriously?"

"You're going to be training for eight!"

"Yeah but I won't be in a job by then. Speaking of that Inspector, have you been talking to his nephew?"

"Don't even bring him up."

"Oh my god, did you two talk again, go on a date? Tell me! Tell me! How come I haven't heard about this?"

"Because there is nothing to tell. We haven't talked since last Christmas. We aren't going to. It was a crush, keywords was and crush. Things like that don't last. Besides, I don't date, Abby."

"I know, but I have to do these things to you. You're my best friend, and I'm yours. It's my job."

Etheldrea rolled her eyes, "Anyway, how's your boyfriend doing? Randy? Raymond?"

"That's not even close. Roland. He's awesome. He's coming over for Christmas, and meeting my parents."

"Doing that early then?"

"Yeah. There's a bit of an unspoken agreement between us about meeting boyfriends now."

"Yeah, your last one was a total _prick_."

Abigail started to agree, then looked at Etheldrea closely, "Did you just make a joke? The way I make jokes? Oh my god, London is falling! Etheldrea Holmes has made a joke!"

Etheldrea laughed and shook her head, "Mrs. Hudson hasn't left; London can't fall."

Abigail gasped, "Can we go see her? She makes the best biscuits! Please?"

"I don't see why not. I'm sure she won't mind."

"You're the closest thing she has to a grandchild, of course she won't."

* * *

><p>As predicted, the landlady of Baker Street was more than welcome to Etheldrea dropping by. She had chided when she saw Etheldrea without a proper coat and just a jumper. But she let it go and made the girls hot chocolate; peppermint, Etheldrea's favorite.<p>

"How have you been?" Mrs. Hudson asked Etheldrea, "And John?"

"We're doing fine. Life's not too exciting though."

Mrs. Hudson smiled sadly, "I know what you mean, dear. And Miss Abigail, what about you? It's been an awfully long time since I've seen you."

"I'm great. I really miss London and you too."

"Especially the biscuits, right? You know, Etheldrea helped me make up the recipe when she was a little girl."

"Really?" Abigail looked at Etheldrea, "Since when do you bake?"

She replied, "Baking is a science."

Mrs. Hudson laughed, "I remember you, covered in flour head to toe while stating that to your Uncle."

Abigail laughed too, "Did she really? Please tell me she tried to hug him."

"She did! The moment she realized covering him in flour would annoy him, of course."

Etheldrea groaned, "Oh no, not stories! Please, not stories!"

Abigail grinned, "You must have a ton of them Mrs. Hudson.

"More than I can count. Have you heard about how she was always playing pirates with her father. She was the Pirate Queen of London."

"Oh my god, that's so cute!"

Etheldrea groaned again, "Nope. Nope. No. I refuse to have that word describe me."

She put her head in her arms and tried to hide, and then she had an idea. She lifted her head up and looked to Mrs. Hudson.

"May I go . . . go up and see, you know."

Mrs. Hudson smiled sadly, "Of course dear."

Etheldrea stood up and walked out to the hall and then to the stairs of her old haven. Every creak of the step, every touch of the crinkly wall was familiar to her. At the door to the living room, she slowly opened it to reveal the dusty furniture. Particles hung in the air, barely visible in as the windows were covered. Small slivers of light peaked through, giving just hints of where everything was.

Etheldrea knew it all by heart though, and took a brave step in and then another. She walked over to the couch and reached under the cushions, pulling out the letter she had left there the day of the funeral. From the looks of it, it hadn't been touched since that day. She had been thinking about the dream she had when she was in the hospital. The letter was important.

She folded it up, and then put it in her pocket, sure to read it when the time came.

* * *

><p>That time was a bit longer than she intended. She had wanted to the moment she got home, but she chickened out. But she was slowly gathering the strength to read it. Two weeks after visiting Mrs. Hudson, Christmas came and went.<p>

John and Etheldrea didn't do much celebrating. Presents, and then ham and potatoes for dinner. That was it. It was a very solemn occasion for them. No traditional movies, no decorations, no music. Etheldrea had heard a group of people singing We Wish You a Merry Christmas during the afternoon, and both she and John hated it.

After they both went to their rooms for the night, Etheldrea stayed up for a long while. It was in her drawer, just waiting for her. She had put it off for months, and would continue to if she didn't do this now.

Alone in her room, she sat at her desk and pulled out the letter from a drawer. The only light on was the desk lamp, throwing shadows around the room. Carefully she opened the letter, smoothing the folds and laying it down.

Her heart beat fast and she was ready to shove it away again, ready to distill the heartache as she had done so many times. But she needed to read it. One last message from her dad, and she could move. She had to move on.

Gathering her courage she read.

_To my dearest daughter, you have absolutely no idea how much I love you and the length I would go to keep you safe. You are sure to have questions, and I'm sorry I can't be there to answer them. Certain events have compelled me to leave you but I know you will be better off. The past year hasn't been the best for me, and so I've gone somewhere to make everything better. _

_There are many things I'm not proud of, many bad things that I've done. And that's just how the world is. Not now, but sometime in the future you encounter bad people, places, and many bad temptations. You may not know it at first but eventually they will reveal themselves to you. Despite how I try, I won't always be there to protect you. My hope is that you will be smart enough to know not fall for them, but if you do I want you to know that it will never be your fault._

_The world can be a terrible place, but there is far more good in it than bad. If you search long and hard, you'll see what I mean. Right now I'm in a place where most people seem unfriendly but in truth they are only trying to help me feel better. You will find good in the most unexpected places. _

_With Grandmother and Grandfather in France, and Mycroft always working, I know you feel scared and alone right now, but no matter how close or how far, I am always with you. And even if I'm not there, if you keep those you care about by your side, you will never find yourself alone. There will be challenges but I know you have the power to overcome them, and you will._

_It'll be a long time before I'm back home, but I'm sure I'll see you before then. Mycroft promised he'd let me see you soon enough, but if you read this letter before than I want you to know I live everyday proud to be the father of the brightest, smartest, most wonderful child I have ever known and no matter what you do I will continue to be. Until I see you again my Little Wanderer._

_All my Love, Dad_

She folded the latter up again and carefully tucked it away so it wouldn't be lost. She wiped away the tears that fell, and then went to bed. It was the last time she grieved for her dad, and would move on.

And she was finally happy.


	5. Little Black Dress

**It's been so long, and I am so sorry! To cut a long excuse short, two essays, two exams, two rewrites of this chapter and a broken laptop later, I am back! And with a document program that actually works too! Also, by the way I have no idea how joining Scotland Yard goes and what the first day and rest of the job is like. I just googled the website and looked at yahoo answers and went from there. I'm sorry for all inaccuracies. **

**You came, lifted me up but then you dropped a hurricane**

**Now I'm fighting to find the ground again, to steady my feet**

**Get up off my knees and just remember**

**That I am more than just somebody's puppet**

**I can find the cord and then I'll cut it**

**I stand a pretty good chance to dust myself off and dance**

**I'll get my little black dress on**

**And if I put on my favorite song**

**I'm gonna dance until you're all gone**

* * *

><p>December twenty-eighth marked the day Etheldrea applied for her first and hopefully only job. January third marked the day she was invited for interviews. January fifth was the day she got the phone call. She had a job.<p>

Monday through Thursday after school, and on Sunday she would report in for her shifts, train with an officer and do her duties as a new police constable.

* * *

><p>That Monday afternoon, she walked into the Yard and paused to look around. Over a month and nothing had changed, but it all felt so different. She wasn't there for a case, or to convince Lestrade to help her. In fact, she wouldn't be seeing Lestrade much because his office hours ended an hour after she started. But, she was here to work, to do her part to keep London safe.<p>

"Miss Holmes?"

She looked towards the voice, finding that it belonged to a brown haired man. He looked formal and professional, a white shirt and black pants and tie, and a no - nonsense look on his face. Etheldrea stepped forward and shook his hand.

"I'm Inspector Jackson Michaels, your supervisor."

"It's nice to meet you, sir."

He started walking, "Likewise. Follow me, and we'll get you situated and started. Today will be an easy day, general instructions, learning the schedule, meeting your teammates. First things first, your uniform. For the next two or more years of your life, you'll have to get accustomed to changing."

She followed him to an elevator where they traveled up two floors. Getting off, she took in the new surroundings, memorizing each location. As they neared the locker rooms, he pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to her. It was a combination and a locker number.

"This is yours, everything you need is inside. I'll wait for you here."

"Thank you, sir."

She walked in and looked for the locker, number one – zero – six, and entered the combination. It was a standard police lockers, with her uniform waiting. Quickly she changed and put her school things away. As she fixed her tie, a woman walked in. Dressed same ash she, she gave Etheldrea a once over and then sneered and walked away.

It didn't faze her though, Etheldrea had grown accustom to those kinds of reactions and she wasn't going to let it shake her confidence. Closing and locking her things, she hurried back out to meet Inspector Michaels. He led her down a few hallways until he stopped outside a door.

"This is my office. Every report can be delivered on a silver tray on my desk whenever. If you ever need to see me, there is a high probability I will be here. If you can't, you can find Sergeant Lawrence Collins. You'll meet him later tonight."

"Understood."

Etheldrea made note of everywhere they walked, interrogation rooms, waiting rooms, cubicles, every place she might be. Inspector Michaels stopped near a cubicle where a dark haired woman was working. She looked up and then stood at attention.

"Officer Rachel Robinson, meet Officer Etheldrea Holmes. You two will be working together closely for some time."

The girls shook hands, and Etheldrea said, "Lovely to meet you."

Robinson only nodded.

The tension she was giving off worried even Etheldrea. Her dark eyes glared at her, seemingly not noticed by their superior. Etheldrea shook it off and waited for her next instructions.

Inspector Michaels told them, "Rachel will show you the ropes. You two will be patrolling together for the rest of week, and we'll see what happens from there on. Speaking of, I believe now would be a perfect time. Good afternoon Officer Holmes, Robinson."

"Afternoon, sir." Both girls replied.

He walked away, and Etheldrea turned to Robinson to wait for her instructions. The woman walked towards the elevator, motioning for Etheldrea to follow. She didn't say a word to her until they got outside and started walking. Her voice was cold and formal.

"I patrol every day from four until eight. You'll do the same until you start full time. Sometimes we'll be called away to guard a scene, or handle a situation. Until we keep the peace. Any questions?"

"What's our perimeter?"

"It changes now and then. Some days just around here, some days we drive to a different location. You'll find out every day from Sergeant Collins. For now, we'll walk to Vincent Square, then to Victoria Square, and then back."

"What happens afterwards?"

"Break, and then paper work. I have a half – hour, you'll be getting ten minutes since you're only part time. Collins will take over from there though." Robinson sounded almost relieved at the thought.

Etheldrea didn't have any more questions after that, and Robinson didn't talk to her. They walked the route quietly, watching for any disturbance or disasters. Nothing out of the ordinary happened as they made their way around. It was tense though. Even though they weren't talking, Robinson ignored her. She handled it like she always did though, ignoring her too.

Around six, just as they were leaving Victoria Square, they heard their first disturbance. A block away, two men were shouting at each other. Then they heard what sounded like glass breaking. Running towards the noise, they found the two men standing outside a cafe about to get physical. Robinson immediately went to put herself between them, taking care of the situation quicker than Etheldrea could comprehend.

A minute later, the men had calmed down, and one was cleaning over the glass that had fallen and broken. Robinson walked away from them and back towards Etheldrea. She stood there awkwardly, wondering if she should have tried to help but also feeling like Robinson wouldn't have liked it.

"You get the next one." Robinson said as she walked right past her.

Etheldrea nodded, not seen by the officer, and continued on. Unfortunately, there was no "next one" for Etheldrea to prove herself with, and they ended up back at the Yard. On their floor, Robinson pointed Etheldrea in the direction of the cubicles and then disappeared to the locker rooms.

Etheldrea looked around the room, searching for the man who was supposed to help her, but it was difficult to find someone you didn't know. But, a moment later a stern faced man walked towards her and she figured this was Sergeant Collins.

He held out his hand as he neared her and they shook.

"Good evening, sir." She said.

"And to you. Follow me and we'll get you started. How was your first few hours?"

As she followed him towards a desk, she replied, "Mostly uneventful."

"Lucky thing for your first day. You'll see more action soon." He stopped by an empty desk with a computer, "Any open desk around here will do when you start writing reports. If for some reason they're all busy, just go find one where you can. When you go into documents, you'll find the templates ready to fill out. Print them out, and turn them into to Inspector Michaels. Any questions?"

"What if I finish all repots?"

"There are files to be organized in the room next to the lockers, there's usually one or two people in there at a time. There'll be instructions in the room near the door. Now and then one of your coworkers may need help, do what you can. There'll always be work."

"Thank you, sir."

"Welcome to the team, Officer Holmes."

He walked away, and Etheldrea relaxed a bit. She had meet three of her superiors, and so far only one seemed to dislike her. Not bad for a first, she thought.

Sitting down and pulling up the document she needed, she filled out her report and finished it quickly. Then she walked towards the lockers and entered the only room near it. On a table next to the door, a taped and laminated piece of paper held the instructions.

From the corner of the room, she held someone shuffling around and went to investigate. The same girl that had walked into the locker rooms earlier was sitting with her back to Etheldrea. She walked towards her and then spoke.

"Hello I'm Etheldrea Holmes."

The girl glanced at her and went back to work, "We know who you are."

"We?"

"Everyone here. How can we forget?"

Etheldrea ignored her, "Any specific place I should start?"

"Don't know if you should work back here. You might corrupt them, _again_."

"Again?" she replied with an edge, "I've only just started."

"When your dad kidnapped those kids, guess what had to happen here?"

"He didn't kidnap _anyone_."

"Whatever, just go do something useful. I've got work to do."

Etheldrea clenched her fists and walked to the other side of the room, separating them by a few rows of cabinets. She pulled over a chair and started going through. The next two hours passed in silence, but Etheldrea was sure at one point she had heard the whispered word _Freak_.

* * *

><p>After her first day, John wanted to hear everything. Etheldrea didn't want him to worry though, so she left out the way some people treated her. He didn't think to ask, thank god, and so she was off the hook. However, she wasn't sure how long she'd be able to keep it secret if the behavior continued.<p>

The next day, after changing into her uniform and punching in, she learned she and Robinson were going to guard a crime scene. She was led to the car park, and climbed into the back seat next to another constable. There was chatter in the car, but no one spoke to Etheldrea and truth be told she was a bit relieved. Being ignored was better than receiving attention in her experiences.

Once there everyone went to their places and kept people moving along. It had been a fire, the crime scene, but Inspector Michaels wasn't sure if it was an arson or an accident. Etheldrea had been listening in, unable to help herself, and stayed just a bit closer to the scene than she probably should have.

Michaels was getting more and more frustrated as time went on, and then he saw Etheldrea standing there.

"Holmes, come here." He called.

She obeyed, "Yes, sir?"

He grinded his teeth before he spoke, "What do you make of this?"

She looked around, seeing a few people watching them, "I don't know if-"

"Holmes, a family may be in danger here."

She took a final glance around and asked, "Where did the fire originate?"

"The stove. The husband said it just went up in flames, even though he bought a few weeks ago."

"Are you sure?"

". . . No. He's demanding an investigation, and replacement to everything lost. There's something about him though that doesn't sit right with me. I've heard many complement about you from Detective Inspector Lestrade, will you help?"

She nodded, "It's my duty. May I see the scene?"

"Follow me."

He led her inside and she looked at the surroundings. The main hallway was clear at one end, slowly transforming to smoke stained walls. One door, the door to the kitchen, was burned away saved for the bottom hinge. She stepped over it and walked in, taking in the ashy remains. The walls were black from the bottom, slowly fading to a blue color. In some areas she could see the floor used to be a brown paisley pattern. A black table was slowly cracking apart, appliances were stained black or burned away, and the stove seemed the worst of all.

It was a black mound, barely distinguishable as a stove. She stood by it, looking over every detail. She sniffed the air, smelling mainly the left over smoke but also something else she couldn't put her finger on. She looked up at the lights and noticed one bulb above the table. IT had melted in the heat and turned up so that it pointed towards the stove. Walking over there, she smelled more of the mystery substance.

"Arson." She said.

"What's your proof?" Michaels asked.

"Come over here. What do you smell?"

He stepped over by her and sniffed, "I'm not sure."

"Neither am I, but I believe it might be some sort of cleaning product."

"What does that have to do with this?"

"Cleaning agents are some of the most common flammable objects. What do you see on the floor?"

"Black."

"Beyond that, let your eyes adjust."

He knelt down and started for a bit, "That pattern is awful."

"Yes, and also easily cloaked. There's a different pattern in there, a line leading from this side of the table towards the stove. This is where the fire started."

"How can you be sure?"

"The light above the table, see it? If the fire had started at the stove, it would be pointed towards the door. Someone poured a liquid form here to the stove, maybe even doused it, and then started the fire. Was any matches found, or maybe a lighter?"

"No, nothing. Someone kept it then. I'd searched the last known person in the room. If they started it with a lighter, there might be some burn marks on their hand."

"Thank you Officer Holmes."

"Just doing my job."

She left the house and went back to her post, a small sense of achievement following her. She heard what everyone was saying, the little whispers saying she was involved somehow, but they were proven wrong later that night when the husband confessed to it. She smiled for the rest of the night, and didn't care about the glares she kept receiving.

* * *

><p>As each day came and went, Etheldrea could feel the tension towards her increase. As she passed by people she could hear the insults, the gossip, and the complaints. Any day now she was expecting Inspector Michaels or Sergeant Collins to pull her aside or take her in for questioning but they didn't.<p>

In fact, she rarely saw them after her second day, and really only saw Officer Robinson. The woman never tried to talk to her, and only grew tenser as they worked together. Etheldrea could see the stress all over her, the glares coming off in waves when she wasn't looking, and just a hint of malice n her voice when she was forced to talk.

It wasn't until she found the note in her locker that she decided enough was enough.

**You don't belong here.**

She had endured so much in her life, dealt with so many bullies and events. She was not about to let anyone bully her out of the job she had been waiting years for. Crumbling it up and dropping it on the floor, Etheldrea marched outside and to the officer. Robinson was chatting with someone when Etheldrea tapped on her shoulder.

"May I speak to you." Etheldrea wasn't taking no for an answer.

Robinson rolled her eyes and walked over to a corner area.

"What do you want?" she sneered.

"I know you don't like me, I know most everyone here doesn't. But it's not going to change the fact that I am here, that this is my job, and whispers and petty notes aren't going to make me leave. I have spent nine years of my life waiting to get this job, and if you think you and the rest of the "team" can bully me out, you better watch yourself because I have _never_ given up easily."

"Do you have any idea why no one wants you around here? Do you have any idea the mess your father caused us here? How many of us almost went out of a job? Did you know I almost got sacked? Wanna know why? I authorized your father on a scene once, a scene that he may have committed. Did you even think about what the reaction to you would be? Didn't you think no one would want to see your face around here again? Didn't you think you were better off at the very least somewhere else? But no, you had to do what you and your father do best, ruin everything for everyone else."

"You think I didn't know? Oh, I knew alright. I knew coming here might be a giant mistake. I knew everyone was going to resent me, and I knew I was going to be facing a lot of backlash also. But I followed through because this is where I want to be and no one is going to stop me. Not even a grown brat with daddy issues-"

_SLAP_

The room grew dead silent, all turning to see what had caused such a noise. No one was all that surprised to see Rachel Robinson with her hand still in the air, a furious expression on her face as she watched Etheldrea rub her cheek with one hand and the other ready to slap back.

"Robinson!" Inspector Michaels walked in, "My office. Now."

With a final glare at Etheldrea, she obeyed. Etheldrea clenched her fist and took a breath.

"You're after her, Holmes." Michaels said before walking away.

Releasing it, she calmly walked over to a desk and sat down. She waited a short while, ignoring everyone else around her. When Robinson came back, not saying a word, Etheldrea went to her lecture.

She knocked on the door first, and Michaels told her to go in.

"Take a seat Holmes." He said.

The moment she sat down, she started to explain, "I'm sorry sir, really, truly am. I'm trying to get my temper in control but sometimes it gets out. I know there is no excuse for the things I said, but I'm not going to let myself be bullied. Not again. Never again."

"And you shouldn't. I'm not going to lecture you like Robinson, you know what you contributed and you're going to fix. Write her an apology, she's doing the same."

"Is that all sir?"

"No. Miss Holmes, do you know why I wanted you part of this team?"

She shook her head.

"I saw what you said. Dedication, ambition, determinedness. I choose you because I thought you would be one of the most valuable people on the force, and so far I was right. But only if you can be a team player. I know what the others are saying, but give it time. The rumors will be put to rest when they see you out there doing what they should all be doing. You're instrumental here Holmes, don't let anyone tell you different and don't tell anyone any different. You can go now."

She stood up and smiled, "Thank you sir. And thank you for choosing me. I won't let you down."

"I'm counting on it."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There's a couple new faces which you can view on my tumblr - link on my profile. I'm not entirely sure how often we'll be seeing each one of them, but I do have some ideas for Rachel Robinson. Until next time!<strong>


	6. Root Down

**I'm a writer here upon this ship**

**On a sea of unnamed and untamed passages**

**And every vessel's meant for pouring out**

**And every bloom has to make room to root down**

**Give more,**

**Give it all away**

**I'm sure it'll come back someday**

**You gotta let go to let it circle back around**

**To rise up you gotta learn to root down**

**Learn to root down**

* * *

><p>The first week finished.<p>

And then the second.

And then the third.

Etheldrea was exhausted to say the least, but she powered herself through every day. She and Robinson talked very little, and everyone stayed out of her way while she stayed out of theirs. She did her rounds, filled out her paper work, did her best to be a team player even though no one wanted her on the team. It was . . . repetitive.

The same thing every day; walking around London stopping drunks and would – be crooks, sitting at a desk filing the day's events. Sure, there were new places to go now and then, things to guard, or people who were getting into huge trouble but those happened only once a week. And she was still going to school with the same boring assignments that she just barely had time to do now.

Her dad had always told her no matter how dull or boring it was, she had to finish school. Well, she had no plans for University and as the months went on school was doing nothing for her. There were only four more months left and she'd be done though. Working full time walking around London stopping drunks and . . . would – be crooks. All day. Almost every day.

She hated repetition with a passion. It was why she wanted a job as an officer. Things were supposed to be different every day, and technically they were. But that didn't stop the same routine from popping up. And speaking of routines, another on her list of horrendous things was lunch every other Saturday with Uncle Mycroft.

The first meeting had been completely silent. They had just sat there and ate, and as soon as she was finished Etheldrea left with a mumbled bye. The second time had gone better, still quiet and Mycroft supplied most of the conversation, but better. Slowly Etheldrea began adding more, filling him in on her life and John's if he asked, even if to only humor her.

It was on one of these days that she sat with her Uncle chatting about the latest days' work.

"How do you do it?" she asked, "Essentially the same thing over and over, every day?"

He replied, "It's my job. I choose it."

"But you never get bored? Tired of the same threats?"

"I suppose it's much too exciting to feel bored. Is working at the Yard really that awful?"

"No, no, not at all, but you know me."

He smirked, "That I do. My advice is to give it time. It took me years to get to where I am today, the same as it will take you years to become an Inspector."

She smiled, "You think I'll become an Inspector?"

"Yes. Without a doubt. You have the determination, and the dedication."

"That's what Inspector Michaels said."

"You do well to listen to him. Of course, after you finish school. Speaking of, I haven't heard about any applications to University. It's nearly too late, you know."

"I know. I'm not going."

"Sorry?"

"You heard me. I don't think it's right for me. I'm already working where I want, I could've finished a few years ago, why should I continue?"

"What would your father say?"

Etheldrea knew he wouldn't have been happy. He had always encouraged her in school, but she didn't want to be there.

"I know it's not what you want, or what dad would have wanted. I'm not asking for support, but I do want trust."

"Trust?"

"Yes! Trust in me. I'm only eighteen, and I know I probably don't know what's entirely best for me, but there are some things I do know."

Mycroft observed her for a minute and then nodded, "Very well."

Etheldrea smiled and took a bite out of her pasta. Mycroft had finished the main course a while ago and was sneaking bites from a piece of brownie when he thought she wasn't looking.

"Cheating?" she asked with a smirk.

He glared at her, "I've lost enough."

"Well, if you must."

"Besides, not all of us have a youthful metabolism anymore."

"Yes, but I'm still not cheating on my diet with my first love."

"A 'first love'? I'm hardy a man who loves anything."

She looked away, "Don't I know it."

He sighed, "Etheldrea, I don't mean-"

"I know. Sorry, my fault. Don't worry, I'm the same."

"Are you though? A 'special' day is coming up soon. You don't have anyone to spend it with?"

"Oh please. You would know before even I did. No, I'm like you. I don't need a _relationship_."

"Much like your father too. How peculiar the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, even more so when it's nearly identical."

"I suppose you would know better than I." she frowned, "What was he like? I – I regret that I never asked."

Mycroft sighed and got a faraway look in his eyes as he recalled, "Always curious, always exploring, trying to decipher even the simplest of things, that is, when he wasn't trying to make the dog walk the plank. You know a thing or two about that, Pirate Queen of London."

She rolled her eyes, "He read me a lot of pirate stories, alright."

"As did our father. Every night before bed. It contributed to our fondness for reading, same as your dad reading to you did."

"Yeah. Life was good." She smiled in remembrance, and then frowned, "I don't understand why he left. He promised me so many times he never would, but then he does it."

"I'm sorry my dear, I don't know." He looked down, "The last anyone head from him was John on that phone call."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "What?"

"What do you mean 'what'?" he looked up at her with alarm, almost like he sensed his mistake

"How did you know about the phone call? John never told anyone that, except for me. There's no way you could know about it."

"It was in the coroner's report."

"How did Molly Hooper know he was talking to John?"

"It was- found on the roof. The last made call was to John."

She shook her head, "That's . . . alright. I have to go. John's expecting me soon."

She stood up and grabbed the brown jacket she had been borrowing from John. Muttering goodbye, she left the Diogenes Club and hailed a cab.

* * *

><p>As she made her way inside St. Bart's Hospital, she had no idea how she was going to be able to get the records. She also had no idea why she was doing this. There was just something about how Uncle Mycroft had spoken and acted. She <em>thought<em> she had been able to see through his lies, but maybe she wasn't as good as she thought.

Now would be a test of her recent position in life. As an officer she did have the certain right to call for evidence, but she wasn't here for a case. She wasn't even here for anything justifiable to gain access to the records.

But, her one hope was Molly. She hadn't seen Dr. Hooper since the funeral, and even then she was just there. She hadn't spoken to anyone there, and she had taken a seat at the back. Then, once everything was over, she vanished. Etheldrea knew it must have been hard on her, she had had a crush on her dad after all, and she didn't blame her. She only hoped that her presence wouldn't upset Molly any more than when they first met.

She walked down the corridors until she got to the morgue, and heard the familiar voice inside.

"_Are you sure? . . . Oh- okay. . . . I think so. . . .When is- Oh! Okay. Yeah, bye."_

Etheldrea knocked on the door and let herself in. Molly turned around and looked shocked to see her. She put some equipment she was holding down, and then took off her gloves.

Nervously she said, "Etheldrea, how . . . nice to see you."

Etheldrea nodded, "You too. How have you been?"

"Well. Busy. Really busy. You know January has the highest death rates, and I know its February but there's still a lot of paper work to be done, and- sorry. How have you been?"

"Good, all things considering. I work at Scotland Yard now."

"Really? Congratulations! You always wanted to work there."

"It's been great, but I've been hitting some rough patches now and then."

"Well, that's to be expected of course. Oh! I'm sorry, that sounds terrible. I mean, it was terrible, and-"

"Molly, its fine. There's a reason I'm here. I need your help."

She took a breath, "What can I do?"

"You were the one to write the report, weren't you? On my dad, after- after."

She nodded quietly.

"Was there anything about a cell phone in it?"

Molly's eyes widened a bit, "Yeah, there was. I think he had called John before he . . ."

"Really?" Etheldrea looked dejected, "Alright. That's all. Thank you."

"I'm sorry. Really I am. I wish I could-" she stopped and shook her head, "Never mind."

"It's fine. Everything's fine." She smiled, "He liked you, you know. He considered you a friend. He told me once."

She started walk away, but Molly stopped and grabbed her arm, "Wait, uh, if you need something, anything, you can call me. I know you've got John, and Lestrade, and your Uncle, and- but if you need me, I'm here. Well, not all the time since I don't live here, but you know. Here, let me write down my number."

Molly turned away and grabbed some paper but Etheldrea stopped her.

"I actually do have your number. Dad programmed it into my phone a few years ago."

"He did? Oh, I didn't know."

"It's ok. Thank you again, Molly. I'll let you get back to work. Have a good day."

"You too."

Etheldrea left, and on her way back home she thought about when she had first met Dr. Molly Hooper. She had been thirteen when she entered St. Bart's that afternoon and searched for her dad among the labs. She had found Molly instead and the encountered hadn't been exactly a pleasant one.

It had been very awkward and an embarrassment to both as soon as Molly learned who she was. Molly had actually been a bit mad with her at first and that in turn made Etheldrea mad at her. Etheldrea being in her early teens didn't help either; she had been rather horrid. But as they started seeing each other more and more they grew to accept each other's presence and at the very least became colleagues.

At any rate, Etheldrea was happy to know Molly was there for her. She remembered what her dad had told her, how he wanted Molly in his life. She was a valuable person, one of the few she trusted, and Etheldrea had a feeling she would be calling her soon.

* * *

><p>That evening she and John were sitting in the living room while she checked her email and he watched TV. There wasn't much look at, junk mail, bookstore sales, and the occasional fan mail. How they got her email wasn't a mystery, why they tried to contact her was. She always deleted them, not wanting to read through a grammatically incorrect message about them believing in her dad. She appreciated the thought, but every message just reminded her that he was gone and that most of the world thought he was a fraud.<p>

As she clicked the deleted button on them, she stopped at the third to last one. In the time that she had been receiving emails she had of course gotten the occasional case, but without her dad what was the point? He was the detective, she hadn't even been allowed to call herself his assistant. But this one email was interesting.

**Missing Son – Kidnapped – Police Taking Too Long**

Etheldrea debated with herself for several minutes. She didn't know if she could start cases on her own, and she knew John wouldn't help. But, would he go so far as to make her not start cases. And what of she wasn't good enough? She was no match for her dad, and now that she was an officer she had to follow all sorts of legalities that she hadn't before.

"What is it?"

She glanced up and over to John, "Sorry?"

"You're doing that thing with your face. The Should–I–Or–Shouldn't–I face whenever you're about to do something bad. What is it?"

She shook her head, "Nothing."

He looked at her sternly, "_Etheldrea._ Tell me now."

"A woman's son is missing. She wants me to look into it."

"But you won't?"

"I- I don't know. She's already gone to the police, and I'm not sure if I could- if I even have the capability to do this. I mean, I never lead any cases, I'm just a follower."

"But, as an officer, isn't it your duty to help those in need, in and out of uniform?"

"You think I should do it? Take a case?"

"I think you should do whatever your heart tells you to, and all that cliché crap. I can see it in your eyes, you want to."

"Would you come with me?"

"No. I'm sorry, I can't. Not after Sher-"

"It's ok. I understand. Thank you John."

"Of course. Whatever choice you make, I'll stand behind you, always."

Etheldrea smiled, "I appreciate that. By the way, you should ask her out."

"Who?"

"You know who. The woman you work with down at the surgery, what was her name? Carrie?"

"Mary. How did you- never mind."

"You make faces too."

She turned back to the email. One click to delete it, or one click to read it.

_Click._

**To Etheldrea Holmes**

**From Grace Basilwether**

**Please you have to help me! My baby boy Vincent was taken a few hours ago! I contacted the police and thy told me they were looking for him but they haven't found him! Please, I can't go another second without my little boy. Someone broke into his room and took him sometime after he'd come back from school. I've attached a picture, and my address and mobile is below. Call me as soon as you read this.**

Etheldrea clicked the picture and found a young curly blonde teen, no more than sixteen. Much younger than the mother seemed to portray him. It was a school photo, from the looks of the background and attire, and the missing boy didn't look all that impressed to be in it.

There were several questions she had. And the email answered nearly none of them. It wasn't too late to back out though, and she could forget all about this. But, a missing person's case was so tempting. She loved them, well finding the missing person, and it would be so good to get back out there. It would be so different without her dad in the lead, and she wasn't sure she could be the detective this woman wanted.

There was only one way to find out. She took the number and picked up her phone. It picked up after the first ring.

"Ms. Basilwether? My name is Etheldrea Holmes, I'm going to find your son."

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry it's been taking so long for chapters. I've had a lot of assignments due in the past week, and I've got another due next Friday. On the plus side, next week is my last week of school until Winter Break, and then I'll have about a month and a half off. Also, I don't know if I've mention this but each chapter takes place in a different month. The first three were November, the next December, the next January, now we're in February. It's more important to the timeline than the plot, but I just thought I'd mention it.<p> 


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